Always
by over-and-over
Summary: Their love for each other is so strong, that it borderlines to distraction.


**Disclaimer: I don't own the HP series, but oh how much I wish I did!  
A/N: hi, this is my first story for the fandom and I'm kind shy about it, so don't be too rough on it okay? Here it goes...**

Always...

Their love for each other is so strong, that it borderlines to distraction.

That's what other's thought of you, that's how they saw you; an Epic couple that loved so intensely that could move the whole Earth just so to be together. And then, when they were finally together, they would start tearing each other down.

It had all started out wrong; he had tried to kiss you during the final battle, thinking you were both going to die. You'd slap him with all your might and run away, hoping he'd die so you wouldn't have to see his face. Ever again. God how much you hated him!

But he didn't, and neither did you. And now you don't hate him. Now you need him. With a need that's greater than survival, with a need that is lethal, wrong. You don't care, and for his part he doesn't seem to care at all. You could kill each other and you'd be satisfied just by dying together.

The world shrieked when you got together; you were just so incompatible! He was rich, powerful, and arrogant. You were a war hero, brought up in a middleclass family, and fiery independent. He had fled the war, but his family still fought for the other side, against your cause, against you.

Your friends thought he'd done something; blackmailed you, forced himself on you, lobotomised you even when you appeared one day with him at a dinner they had prepared as an intervention. He was so angry that got in a fight with them. It was the first time you took his side openly. His smile was, genuine and so happy and hopeful; it was enough to worth the two weeks that your friends had shunned you from their lives.

You look yourself on the mirror and you barely recognise yourself. You've changed; you finally see what he's been telling you for so long. Your eyes look dull, long gone is the fire that wouldn't go out in them, your hair is straight and flat, nothing like the unruly main you used to sport, you've lost weight, too much as he says. You are not you.

You didn't believe him at first. When he said he loved you. You laughed to his face. He nearly slapped you that day. Instead he turned around and stormed away shutting the door to your face. It was the first time you cried because of him. The first time you knew you were wrong. When he came back you fell to his arms, cried some more, said you loved him. Asked him not to leave you again. He didn't.

You fall on the bed, staring at the clock on the wall. A quarter to one and he is still not home. Jealousy starts bubbling inside of you and you try to sooth it down. He is out with his friends its okay. His friends who hate you...He won't listen to them. He loves you! But it's five to one and you don't hear the door open and the jealousy gets the best out of you. What if he cheats? You'd kill him, kill her, and then go to prison.

Being together was difficult for both of you. You had to face your family, his, your friends, two different sides of the same world that didn't like your union one bit. You didn't care. His father threatened to disown him, he sent him to hell. He did disown him, he asked you to marry him just out of spite. You refused; he was not in his right state of mind. He said okay, he promised to ask you again. That night sex was like punishment.

You love him, you hate him, you need him, but you could easily kill him. And then commit suicide. He is infuriating and yet so endearing. He makes your blood boil with lust. You can't imagine a world without him, a life without knowing him, without knowing what love him feels like. Without knowing what being loved by him feels like.

One thirty and he is not here. You check your mobile for a call and then you remind yourself that he hates technology. You crack a smile at this, at the memory of his pout when you forced him to buy a cell-phone. He did it in the end, for you he said. Unfortunately it magically turned up inside the toilet. When you questioned him he said that the dog must have thrown it in there. It was your time to have punishment sex, but he surely enjoyed himself.

Sex. That's what you are both good at. Communication is a big problem. It appears that you have the same taste in almost everything; books, music, cuisine. But you are both so passionate that the slightest disagreement blow into a full fight; with screaming and crying and cursing and door slumming. You've done it so many times that you feel the ministry should give you some kind of recognition; a medal perhaps.

You broke up, once. He said he couldn't do it. He couldn't feel you pulling away from him every time that something went wrong in your life. He accused you of holding him at arm's length, of not trusting him. You didn't trust him, so you told him. He became furious at this. He yelled that he loved you as if it was something that should make you feel bad. He said that he wanted the two of you to be together, but you made it difficult. More difficult than it should've been. He said he was out. He blamed the whole thing on you, and you never said anything on the contrary.

For six months you slept alone, dined alone, bathed alone. Cried alone. You woke up screaming your lungs out at a memory of the final battle and he was not there to calm you down. To hug you. To kiss you. To tell you that it was going to be alright. To make love to you.

It physically hurt. Like a limb of yours was cut out. Only it wasn't a limb. It was something much more essential, it was your heart, your soul. You put a mask on and continued your life but every night you went back home you cried yourself to sleep. Every night. Steadily. For six months.

And one day, when you went to work he was there. Official matters to take care of; he provided aloofly his face expressionless. It was like a knife to your heart. He was so serene and collected. He didn't even wave at you before he was gone. And you stood there, frozen, looking at his retrieving back.

He opened with his key that night and found you crying in the bathroom. The tub was full and you were naked and the water was ice cold but you wouldn't get out. He jumped in, still dressed, and pulled you to his arms, his hands securely wrapping around you. You touched your head to his chest; you felt his heartbeat underneath your ear and begged him not to go. Ever again.

It is two thirty now and you swear that if he is not home by three you'll leave without a goodbye. Because that's what your plans were for today; get out. Get away. Far, far away from him and your poisonous relationship. Far away from a relationship that made you put him first and yourself a close second. You couldn't live for him any longer.

An onslaught of memories started but you'd braced yourself against it already. It had been going on the whole day; you had to get your guards up. Your first kiss, the first time he asked you out, the last time he laughed in your expense, the first time he proposed and all those that followed until you said yes, your wedding night. Him.

It's all about him. Never about you. Him, him, him. It's exhausting and you cannot do it anymore. You need to breathe. Will you breathe away from him? Will you live away from him? You doubt it, he is essential to your living. And you hate him for that. And you hate yourself for that. Because it's wrong, you know that it is.  
But it feels so right! Being with him feels so right. And it shouldn't and that scares you.

You quickly jump from the bed and grab the suitcase underneath it. You open it and then you throw open the doors of your wardrobe. Hastily you grab your clothes, not really carrying what you'll take, and drop them in. Fast, fast, faster. Your breath comes out fast, in swallow pants. You can't do this anymore. You can't!  
You take the suitcase and run out of your bedroom. You search for your keys but then you stop. You won't need your keys anymore, you are not coming back. That's it, it's final. It sounds so liberating and yet...you feel heartbroken. You move with resolve towards the door but once your eyes hit the mirror you stop.

You are still there; you can still see the spark in you. But it wasn't there minutes ago, or was it? Maybe you see what you want to see. What he wants you to see. Someone broken beyond repair. You clench your jaw angrily; you are not broken!

You raise your head, and look at your reflection above your nose. The glint in your eyes is there. Your hair maybe straight now and you may have changed your style a bit. But you are still you. You are still the same girl he fell in love with. You press your lips together and try hard not to think about him. It's impossible. He is everywhere.

You catch a glimpse of your wedding picture and your determination shutters. He looks so besotted with you in that picture. And you look happy. How long have you to feel as happy as you look in that picture? As long as he has to look at you like that, you remind yourself bitterly. He is so handsome, a small voice says in the back of your mind.

So handsome with his platinum blond hair falling over his eyes. With the wide grin that still makes you melt in spot. With the huge grey eyes that can see straight to your soul. So handsome...The first time he asked you out you said no. Because you thought that he was messing with you. Why would a guy like him ask out someone like you?  
You are more beautiful than you can imagine, he'd said when you reluctantly let your walls down. It was the first time that someone had called you beautiful. Cute and clever you were. But beautiful? Only he thought that. And you fell for him right at that second but you never let yourself indulge in it. You pushed and you pushed and in the end you got tired of pushing him away. Because all you really wanted was to keep him close.

He drives you crazy, he does. But he is the only one that can calm you down. Just with a hug, with a look, with a kiss. Just by being there you feel calmer, safer. And yet you know that you married the devil. Your personal devil. Would you change anything if you had the chance?

The minutes tick by and he is still not back. By now you are mad with jealousy. Deep down you know he'd never cheat on you. But you need a reason to pin this on him. You need to reassure yourself that this divorce is his fault. His fault entirely. But you can't.  
Because he is the devil. And the devil is sneaky and charming. He's been the perfect husband this past month. Coming home early from work just to spent the evening with you. Bringing you flowers every day, or your favourite chocolates. Telling you, you are beautiful and wonderful, the best thing that ever happened to him. Acting like he gives a shit about how you feel. You shake your head in disgust and anger. He made it impossible to pin this on him. He wanted you to be responsible.

You are so angry that you are shaking. It is his fault too, you scream inside your head and yet no one will ever hear you. It is his fault that two years now you only see him at weekends and when he comes back from work. It is his fault that you only go out to business meals and sometimes to a friend's party. It is his fault that you woke up one day freaking out because you forgot what his voice sounded like. His damn fault!

You can feel the tears in your eyes and you panic. No you shouldn't cry! You shouldn't! He doesn't deserve it. This rollercoaster marriage doesn't deserve it! He broke your dreams, your heart, your resolve. You are not going to cry because of him...Have you ever cried about anything other than him?  
You didn't cry a lot, you remember that. Back in school. You had this fake bravado going on, that nothing touched you. Yeah right...Like his comments about your parents, or your friends, or your appearance didn't touch you. Oh how you wished!

He affected you, he hurt you, but he was the 'enemy'. You couldn't allow your friends to see how deep his comments cut in you. They wouldn't understand why you cared for whatever the git said. And really why would you? He was nothing but a pain in the arse, and he enjoyed being one.

But you always remembered that first time you saw him. The very first hello before the train took off. The brush of his hand against yours as he handed you back that book that had fallen from your grasp when you collided with him. He had smiled and his eyes sparkled; he said that he'd read the book, that it was very good. You smiled back, pushing a lock of your unruly curly hair behind your ear, saying that it's your absolutely favourite book.  
He opened his mouth to respond then but instantly his face darkened. He grew silent and took a step back, a step away from you. It sounds ridiculous but you distinctively remember missing the warmth of his body close to yours. Then someone spoke scaring the living daylights out of you. A hand appeared on his shoulder and a man with ice cold eyes looked down at you like you were a vermin on his shoes. The father muttered something in a language that you recognised as Latin, thought the realisation of the language's name didn't help you to understand what he'd said. He lowered his head, but his eyes were still on you. He looked sorry. He muttered something back and his father smiled. Your whole body shivered. That was the first time your father in law gave you nightmares, and many more would follow.

That first meeting shouldn't have mattered. Because he never spoke to you for a whole year. Sure he insulted you, he messed with your friends, tried to make your life miserable. But you never spoke again like that first time.

Your mother always told you that judging someone by their first impression on you would be your doom. And now you can see why. You shouldn't do that, no matter how charming or nice or carrying the person appeared to be. He might as well end up being exactly like your husband.  
You're being unfair, the annoying voice inside your head reared its ugly head again, he's not all bad. No he's not. Of course he is not! You wouldn't marry him if he was! He can be charming, oh so charming! And funny, unintentionally most of the time but really funny. And he loves you, in a weird, twisted way, he loves you.

You push the memories away but they are stubborn, much more than you expected. Your first date flashes before your eyes; the limo at the front of your door him waiting to open your door, the candle lit rooftop where you ate with the greatest view ever; the whole of London under your feet. The wine was lovely, the music perfect and he was dreamy.

When he offered you his hand for a slow dance you shivered from head to toes. You had reluctantly accepted this first date, as an experiment as you told to yourself, and you thought that contact would be kept to the minimum. But that was not the case.

You pride yourself as not one of those easy women that sleep with someone at the first date. And yet all you could think of as he pushed you with your back on the bed was 'yes, yes, yes'. Of course you knew him for a long time before that. You knew a side of him, the side he showed to the world, but that was enough to count in your mind. Back then, you didn't believe he had another side, a humane one.

You stand motionless in front of the door in the foyer staring at the mirror. What are you supposed to do? This is your decision. This morning you were so certain, so cool about it. And now you are a nervous wreck. And it is his fault. Why isn't he home yet?  
If the door opened right now, would you leave? Would you leave while knowing that he was there, staring at your retrieving back? Would he try to stop you? Would you care if he didn't? You'd die if he didn't. You are angry with him, furious, but you love him. And it's an all consuming love; you cannot simply accept that fact that he doesn't love you back. He cannot not love you!

What happens now? What are you going to do? The suitcase feels heavy on your hands, heavier than it should. Your feet refuse to acknowledge the orders from your mind, they refuse to move. What will you do?  
You drop the suitcase and run to the living room. You crash on the couch hug the pillow close to your face and you scream. You don't want to leave, you don't want to cry. You want him there, you want him to care, to love you. But you can't have everything you want; apparently you cannot even have what you don't want.

How many times have you thought of leaving? Of leaving it all behind, of leaving him behind? Just to get in a train and move, move as far away as you can. To start a new life, maybe with a different name so that he'll never find you. Oh you've thought about it so many times. But you can't do it.  
You love him. Simple and complicated as that. You love him and it is killing you. You love him and it's the only reason you still wake up in the morning. It sounds so pathetic, you feel so pathetic. But you can't help it, it's the truth. The undeniable truth.  
You hear the key turning in the lock and you stop screaming. You are panicking now because you know that you've left the suitcase in the middle of the hallway and you know that you probably look like a mess. You hear his voice, calling out for you. Your voice though doesn't cooperate when you lift your head from the pillow and look up towards the foyer.

He searches the rooms leaving the living room for the last, and something tells you that he knows you are there, that he's just stalling. His cologne is the first thing that alerts you to his presence and you avoid looking up at his confused and sad face. He doesn't have the right to be either! He is the reason why you are like that.

"Mione?" he says sitting next to you, his hand on your shoulder and you flinch.  
"Where were you?" you ask your voice thick with tears.  
"Out with Blake, his divorce was finalized today and he didn't feel so well..." he explains and you scoff mirthlessly.  
"Took him out for a boys night, did you?" you ask sarcastically and being married at you for the past three years he knows exactly what you are thinking.  
"It wasn't like that..."  
"I don't care!" you snap and throw the pillow at him as hard as you can "Do you know that I almost left you today?"  
"I figured..."  
"You figured? You figured?" you scream jumping up "That's all you have to say?"  
"What do you want me to say?" he demands jumping up as well.  
"I don't know! Something! Say something!" you scream and push him away. He doesn't badge. He grabs at your arm but not hard enough to hurt and pulls you in his arms. You punch him, try to slap him but he just won't let you go.  
"I'm not letting go," he tells you as much and you go limp.  
"I don't want to go," you admit. His hand runs up and down your back and he kisses the top of your head.  
"I love you, so much."  
"You need to show it, Draco, not tell me," you cry and he nods.  
"I know, I know Mione, I've been awful lately, it's all my fault babe. I love you, I'll fix this, I promise I will."

And like always, you trust him.

**A/N: Did you liked it? Hated it? Just let me know! **


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